


Cozy on my mind

by StormXPadme



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: BDSM, Blindfolds, Fourth Age, Gags, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, PWP without Porn, Restraints, Sensory Deprivation, Smut, Valinor, maitimo's large equipment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:20:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27195035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormXPadme/pseuds/StormXPadme
Summary: After a family meeting post rebirth, Maitimo helps Findekáno relax.
Relationships: Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo
Comments: 13
Kudos: 44





	Cozy on my mind

He's safe in Maitimo's arms.

That's all he knows, all that counts.

Findekáno flexes his arms, just to feel the delicate leather of the cuffs against his wrists. They don't give. He doesn't want them to.

Tender, full lips leave soothing kisses on his fingertips, making sure his hands are not becoming too cold in the restraints hanging from the bedframe.

Sighing, Findekáno slips a seeking fingertip between those beloved lips which earns him a chuckle that he cannot hear through the soft wax in his ears, just feel it rumble against his back, in his husband's so much larger chest. He shudders as the digit is being dutifully sucked, like a silent order willingly followed. As if it was Maitimo and not him, bound and blindfolded and gagged, shut out from the loud rush of the city and a house they come to visit only once or twice a year for good reason.

Sometimes it _is_ Maitimo, being in his place. They have both healed well in the Halls, better than it was to be expected in fact, and even further once they were released and found each other. In the solitude of the house in the mountains that they have built since, far from every population, the nightmares do still remain but they have become few. Sometimes, though, his husband still needs Findekáno to bind and pamper and spoil him all night long, ot praise him just for being back with Findekáno, for fighting and defeating his doom in the end, for recovering, for _existing_.

Tonight is not one of these nights. Tonight it is Findekáno who needs to feel.

And Eru, does he feel right now. Every nerve-ending is set ablaze thanks to most of his other senses being shut down. All that remains is the steady pulse of their marriage bond in his mind that will always be an immediate escape should he need one.

He never had to use it. He doubts he will tonight.

His skin is flushed and sensitive in places it didn't know could be. The glide of silk against his knees and shins and shackled feet is crumpled, damp with sweat dripping from his widely spread thighs, his chest, his forehead. It's the good, the expensive threads, and Findekáno has half a thought to spare that he's glad, it will be the maid, redoing the bed of this guest room once Maitimo and he will be on their way back, and not his mother.

That he maintains a more loving relationship with most of his family than Maitimo with the few members he's even still talking to makes these little trips a lot more pleasurable than trying to prevent another kinslaying when they run into some of his husband's brothers by accident … But the details of his marriage are nothing Findekáno cares for to discuss with his parents.

They've been at _that_ unpleasant point right after his release from the Halls, and once was more than enough.

His husband is done teasing his hand for the moment and moves his mouth in small kisses and licks down his stretched arm to his shoulder and back up to his neck and ear, successfully banning every decidedly non-sexy consideration from his mind. Findekáno's skin burns under Maitimo's hot breathing where it leaves goose-flesh on its way. The wet warmth encasing the sensitive, long tip of his ear draws the first of many moans this night from him, and the sharp twinge of teeth nibbling on the multiply ringed auricle sends a desperate twitch through his untouched cock.

Again, his husband puffs his loving amusement into his ear and moves to the other side of his head, all without laying a hand upon Findekáno's trembling shape even once.

He's going to kill him for sure.

Findekáno whines softly and gives his restraint a harder tug, tries to lower his body just an inch or two towards his husband's, or to close his legs just a little for better purchase. The unforgiving metal pole between his ankles doesn't budge, kept in place by Maitimo's considerable weight where his husband is comfortably lodged between Findekáno's straining thighs, deeply sunken into the mattress, braced on his hands – _both_ his beautiful, strong hands – and _just_ out of reach for Findekáno's arching back and behind ... almost.

 _Almost_.

Findekáno can't decided if it's worse torture, not being properly touched, unable to grind against his lover's broad hips and the rock-hard treasure he knows to be waiting for him there, or feeling the broad tip of said prize nestled between his spread cheeks, leaving the well-known, beloved scent of seaweed smeared all over his sensitive rim in thick drops. The casual reminder of how much bigger his lover's cock is than his own, of how easily it matches the length of his stretched thighs, is another cruel tease leaving Findekáno empty and longing inside.

He _wants_ his husband, so _badly_ , and he's not sure how much longer he can _wait_.

A sharp bite to the tip of his oversensitive ear has him cease his struggle before his breathing can become too violent. He whispers his husband's name pleadingly in their bond and is rewarded with a soft wave of copper and violet in the mingled color of their souls, invading the little icy swirls of his anxiety and impatience before they can turn into a tidal wave.

There is no hurry. They have all night. No more bloody matters of war waiting in the morning and no pressure of secrecy outside their door.

Just them and their new life together.

Findekáno stills. Findekáno breathes.

His eyes fall close behind the shield of the black cloth wrapped around his head, shutting out even the occasional flicker of flames from the corner, until all he knows is his naked skin, the steady heaving of his husband's chest against his upper body, the yearning throb between his legs that promises salvation, soon, but no longer dominates his whole thinking. The weak scent of lavender and clay that is his lover, and the slight tickle of his lover's fiery red hair dancing on his shoulder. The stretched muscles in this place tense a little harder at the unwanted assault and he hisses a breath that turns into a gasp when Maitimo softly blows the offending thin strand away.

The shiver spreads down his back and chest, chased by a first, too light touch of just one fingertip that dips into the shallow lines of his chest, spreading pearls of salt, drawing lazy lines, until it finally circles one pebbled nipple, and Findekáno almost _sobs_ with desire.

Maitimo's sharp teeth warningly graze the side of his neck this time when Findekáno tries to thrust his hips downward in frustration once more until he keeps still again. When he reluctantly relaxes in his bonds and lowers his head, he is being rewarded with another finger joining the first, both rubbing his nipple slowly into further hardness and giving it a gentle, playful tug before moving to the other side.

At this point, Findekáno is pretty certain he will lose his mind before he can even get around to be fucked tonight.

The thought of pointed remarks from the other end of the dinner table, about pending regal duties, and the painful sight of empty chairs that had been reserved for the twins, is the last thing on his mind right now, though. Maybe a little waiting is a small price to pay for that.

He wails in disappointment when the hand leaves his chest but quickly hushes when he can feel his lover's roughened fingertips against his lips, pushing past the light, clean cloth of the scarf filling his mouth. Eagerly stretching his tongue, he returns the favor from earlier, wetting every offered inch of skin best as he can, before Maitimo draws away. Somehow, he manages to rein in his disappointment this time and is being rewarded with a smoother touch against his reddened nipples. Every pull and twist goes straight to his groin until he's leaking precum all over his own stomach and Maitimo's impossibly long legs where they're comfortably stretched out between his own; his gag is long soaked through by his moans and muffled pleas for more.

He's not _ready_ , not in the _least_ , when Maitimo lets go of him, only for his other hand suddenly reaching between Findekáno's legs from behind. The promising glide of oil is like the touch of lightning against his neglected hole. Findekáno has been breathing too hard, making too much sound to mind the clinking of the vial, all the more focused he is now on the torturously slow breach continuing Maitimo's apparent only mission of driving him out of his mind tonight.

A finger is not enough, three would hardly be enough, but Findekáno is nothing if not a quick learner, so he holds still, no matter how hard it is, and lets Maitimo spread him open. Just the needy clench of his muscles around the intrusion, he can't stop, but that one, his husband doesn't seem to mind, given his occasional turned on groan against Findekáno's bare shoulder, and the way Findekáno can feel his cock twitch against the inside of his thigh.

After all that patience, Maitimo seems to be yearning for more, finally, himself now; at least he doesn't waste too much time anymore, spearing Findekáno on three quickly thrusting and scissoring fingers but pulls back almost a little quickly and too roughly when he deems him ready.

Findekáno's small protesting yelp is answered with an apologizing quick kiss to the tip of his ear that is still swollen from the treatment earlier. Then Maitimo finally _moves_ behind him, stretching out and up to reach for Findekáno's restraints, his cock caught in an exciting glide between Findekáno's cheeks …

But it's not his cuffs that Maitimo reaches for, it's the rope he's threaded through the buckles on them and looped around the bed frame.

Once the knot is loose, there's a harder, almost painful pull on Findekáno's slightly chafed wrists that has him stretch further on his hurting thighs, his body taut as a bowstring, and he cries out in confusion and protest for a moment before a guttural moan comes from his lips as his lover's cock finally enters him. For a moment, he's forgetting all about the little lesson in restraint that he is supposed to learn here tonight – a most useful trait to have at family dinners indeed – and tries to thrust his hips down greedily, only to be insistently reminded of the rope keeping his hands high above his head that doesn't give in.

Not as long as Maitimo doesn't want it, at least. And if there's one thing Maitimo has, it's patience.

The slick bastard has laid back comfortably on the mattress now, Findekáno realizes with annoyance, once he can sense anything but the _want_ in his lower body again, and the tentative stretch of his oiled rim around his husband's cock head. With the end of that damn rope slyly in one hand, he gives Findekáno just enough room to take him in, painstakingly slow, inch by inch, never rash enough to hurt himself as he's sometimes being prone to, never impatiently enough to push them both to the edge too quickly.

It's only endless feeling minutes later that Findekáno finally sinks down against his lover's crotch completely, writhing in pent up arousal, his cock twitching untouched against the bulge of his stomach where he feels his lover's enormous erection deep inside of him. He tries a careful roll of his hips, to rub himself against his husband's cock like he needs it, with the weak hope that Maitimo will have mercy on him now and untie him. Instead, he can feel that damn knot being pulled tight again, his arms stretched farther than ever, his whole body completely immobile, impaled like a toy around his lover's cock.

 _Please_ …

He's not sure if he's screamed it louder in their bond or through his gag, but Maitimo isn't impressed much either way. Large hands are being placed around Findekáno's waist, fingertips almost touching, keeping him right where he is as his husband moves up against him one single, frustrating time, a deep growl of pure lust on his lips.

The touch of full, heavy balls grinding against his cheeks and just the smallest rub against his most sensitive point is actually enough, Findekáno finds as he screams out and clenches up impossibly tight, throwing his head back as he feels his orgasm build deep in his groin …

He's not gone far enough yet to not curse his husband in three languages at once when a well-trained hand wraps around the base of his cock and his balls, staving off his height before it can begin. He can hear Maitimo laugh out in his mind and lowers his head in defeat once more while he's silently already coming up with one or two very imaginative scenarios to get back at his sadistic bastard of a husband.

This is going to be a long night.


End file.
